Silent Nights

I hear the haunt of echoing carols,
In the darkest days of the year,
Blend with electric Christmas apparels
To give out a yeoman's measure of cheer.
And those carols ride a midnight breeze
To buoy the settling moon in the west
As she spies the Noel through all the trees
Amid her orbital Yuletide quest...
Ever searching for tranquility there,
But not like the kind that she knows too well
So far above the clouds and churning air,
Full of the Tannenbaum's re-freshening smell,
Which won't reach up to grace her lunar space
Or echo carols off her shining face.